


every demon wants his pound of flesh

by apicturewithasmile



Category: Lost
Genre: Asphyxiation, Ben is only going for this bc he thinks Smokey is John, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, I doubt he'd go for it if he knew, Leashes, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsterfucking, adding those tags as a warning just to be safe, anyway..., but under the assumption that it's John he's agreeing to it, chocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 19:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30144621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apicturewithasmile/pseuds/apicturewithasmile
Summary: Ben thinks that John is back from the dead and out for revenge. But "John" has other things on his mind... he feels more alive than he's done in a very long time and has certain needs.
Relationships: Benjamin Linus/John Locke, Benjamin Linus/The Man in Black
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	every demon wants his pound of flesh

Sometimes when Ben wakes up in the middle of the night the weight of John’s dead body is crushing down on his shoulders and the cable is digging deep into the palms of his hands. It’s a phantom pain reminding him of something he had lost that night, something special. He never knew that murder could hurt so much, that it could affect him so much. It had taken all of his strength to make the scene of his crime look like a suicide and in the process he almost convinced himself that John had leapt into death on his own volition. It’s easier that way.

He misses him and knows very well how pathetic that is. But he fears that he will never be able to be this close to someone in life as he had been to John in the moment of his death. There on the cold dirty floor of John’s motel room they were one. Now the only person who ever even _tried_ to understand him is dead and he had no one to blame except for himself.

Then one day Ben opens his eyes and John is there. “Hello, Benjamin,” he says. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

For a short blissful moment Ben is relieved, his sin undone by the island. Then he realises that he doesn’t actually feel better at all; his hands still burn and his back still aches. It’s worse even because now there is a living, breathing reminder of his pain.

* * *

Having a body is strange. It comes with certain needs, some of which he had long forgotten about – the little things which make him human, like sucking the juice from a perfectly ripe mango off his fingers; or standing knee-deep in the ocean as the waves wash away the sand underneath his feet. One thing he hadn’t forgotten is the need to touch someone, to feel the warmth of another person’s skin. But there’s also something new mixed in with the old, a desire that isn’t really his at all. It is Locke’s, but he aches for it as if it had always been there.

Locke’s memories are a part of him now and the more he commits to this body, the harder it gets to shut out Locke’s voice. He feels his joy as much as his sorrow, and that hunger to belong some _where_ and to be some _one_. He has to carry all of that with him and it weighs even heavier when _he_ is around – Benjamin. Locke had such a fascination for that man, and like a child playing with fire the danger only made him want to touch it more.

Having a name is strange, too. He has never had one. Now people look at him and they call him “John” and it feels wrong. Except when Ben does it. It rings different in his voice. There’s warmth underneath the guilt and he gravitates towards it. He wants to play with fire, too.

* * *

They’re walking through the jungle, just the two of them. John doesn’t tell him where they are going but Ben follows reluctantly. Maybe that’s his punishment, the humiliation of having to take orders from John. But secretly Ben is hoping for a more direct form of revenge, something more physical instead of these endless mind games. And maybe this was it, maybe today John would make him pay for what he had done to him.

“You’re so quiet,” John says. “That doesn’t seem like you.” He stops a couple of feet ahead of Ben and takes a water bottle out of his rucksack.

“What do you want me to say? Shall I beg for my life?”

John grins. “What makes you think I want to kill you?”

“I don’t know, John,” Ben says. “We’ve been hiking through the jungle for hours and you’re not telling me where we’re going or why it was so important that it was only us two. What else am I supposed to think?”

John takes his time with the water as if he has to savour every drop, then he closes the bottle again, checking twice that the cap is screwed on tight, before putting it back into his bag. Only then does he grace Ben with a reaction. “If I wanted you dead I could have killed you days ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Ben asks. “I deserve it.”

“Would you believe me if I told you how important you are?” John says and takes a step closer. He has that look in his eyes again, the one that Ben had never seen prior to murdering him. There’s a sense of superiority in it that frightens him and yet he can’t bring himself to look away. It’s tantalising.

“Funny,” Ben says, not knowing how else to reply if not with cynicism. “That’s what I said before I strangled you.”

“Right,” John says in a hushed tone. Then suddenly he stands right in front of Ben, leaving barely any space between them. “Is that what you want? Do you want to know what it feels like to be choked?”

Before Ben can answer, John’s hand is already wrapped around his throat. It’s a gentle grip – for now – and Ben could easily take a step back towards freedom but he doesn’t. Instead he leans forward and pushes the weight of his body into John’s palm. If he must die this way then at least there’s a poetic justice to it, Ben thinks. He locks eyes with John, expecting them to be the last thing he sees.

But John doesn’t finish it. He lets go before Ben loses consciousness.

Ben tumbles to his knees gasping for air. His head is pounding and when he glances up at John everything looks a shade too bright. It burns in his eyes. “Why did you stop?” Ben manages to say under his breath.

“Because we both know that you don’t really want to die, Benjamin.” John says, then suddenly he’s on top of Ben and pins him to the ground. “You’re too afraid of what comes after it. What you actually want is to feel alive again.”

This time Ben doesn’t have a chance to get away when John’s fist tightens around his neck. His surroundings become blindingly white again and he can barely make out John’s silhouette towering over him. But then somewhere between the dizziness and the thrill he realises that he can breathe again and that John is feeling him up while his teeth are sinking into Ben’s neck. He knows he should be scared, and part of him is, but there’s also the fact that his dick is growing hard and whatever it is that John is trying to do here, Ben is all in.

“Do it again. Please. Punish me,” Ben says but half of it gets stuck in his throat that’s dry and coarse from gasping.

“Will you do as I say?” John asks.

Ben nods eagerly, needy. For once he _wants_ John to be in control.

John stands up and starts fumbling with his belt buckle. “Then get up on your knees,” he says and Ben does. Then John takes off his belt and loops it around Ben’s neck. He pulls it tight, holding on to the end of it like a leash.

Ben tries to clear his throat but the belt is digging into his skin. When he looks up he sees that John is unzipping his pants and it makes Ben nervous.

“Open your mouth,” John says as he pulls down his pants and underwear.

But Ben is clenching his teeth together, not because he doesn’t want it but because he assumes that’s part of the game. And when he resists for too long John tugs at the belt, forcing Ben to throw his head back into his neck. Then John grabs Ben’s chin and rubs the tip of his cock against Ben’s mouth. “I said, open it!”

A taste of hot salt coats Ben’s lips and he finally gives in. He opens his mouth for John and takes him in. It’s even harder to breathe now and he realises that he doesn’t actually know how to do this.

But John seems to like it. “Good boy,” he says and buries his fingers into Ben’s hair and pulls at it as he pushes his cock in and out of Ben’s mouth. He fucks him like that for a while, then he pulls out and lets Ben catch his breath. Then he does it all again. And again. Until he comes and his semen spills out from Ben’s mouth and onto the jungle floor.

For a moment Ben doesn’t know when or where or _why_ he is. The taste on his tongue is bitter and the air he breathes cuts through his lungs like glass. His instinct tells him to reach out for John’s hand, but when he does John backs away. He only touches Ben once more, briefly, when he takes the belt off his neck. Then John puts his pants back on and grabs his rucksack like nothing happened.

“We should look for a place to sleep, it’s about to get dark soon,” John says and starts to walk in the direction they were headed before.

Ben is still kneeling on the ground, cleaning up traces of John’s orgasm off his chin, suddenly very aware of his own erection that’s aching to be dealt with. “What about me?” he asks. He almost whimpers it, begging for attention. “John?”

John glances back at Ben over his shoulder. He has a smug smile on his face. “What about you?”


End file.
